


In need of a daydream

by BirdinJetstream



Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Hand Jobs, M/M, flashback or dream?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 04:41:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11223546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BirdinJetstream/pseuds/BirdinJetstream
Summary: Mycroft Holmes needs to relax. The Doctor is there to help.





	In need of a daydream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tammany](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tammany/gifts).



In need of a daydream

 

Mycroft Holmes sat in his comfy chair at the Diogenes Club. Lowering the newspaper into his lap, he stared into space somewhere behind the opposite wall behind the bar.  
He felt exhausted. The responsibilities and decisions of his position were manifold and his schedule allowed little pause. It had been a very tiring day and reading the newspapers did nothing to relax him and revive his ability to concentrate. In the past ten minutes, he had merely stared at the letters instead of actual reading.

A movement caught his eye and he became aware of the slim and tall figure of the young barkeeper, Matt, who was opening newly delivered packages of delightful beverages. The scene stirred a memory, buried deep down. Something vague, like a dream and he wasn't sure if this was a memory at all.

...

 

He found himself behind the bar with the same young man whom he just watched. His surroundings had taken an odd monochrome colour, enhancing the feeling of a dream or a different time, altogether.

Though only in his late thirties, he was already a senior member of the club and he remembered now that his task was to evaluate the quality of the new batch of whiskeys that arrived. That included educating the young barkeeper in the finer arts of palate competency, and addressing the visual and olfactorial properties of the different destillates.

They were undisturbed. The air in the room was crisp and fresh, and the grating of wheels on cobblestone and the clip-clop of horses' hooves could be heard from the open window. They had spent already a considerable amount of time at their task. Holmes explaining, Matt listening while he cleared away the previous bottle and expertly prepared the next.

The early-noon sun was casting highlights on the wall behind the bar, rays of light playing in Matt's slightly disheveld hair. The cheeks of the young barkeeper were flushed from the alcohol they had already had, his initial nervousness replaced by a daring gleam in his grey eyes. He passed Holmes the new tumbler and his fingers brushed against the older man's in a not-at-all-accidental way. Holmes found his eyes captured by a hopeful smile directed at him, and it made him pause in the middle of his sentence.

The sudden cheekiness startled him. He could feel himself blushing. No one knew of his preferences and he was wracking his brain if something gave him away. He was living a solitary life for so long he stopped considering others in this manner altogether. He forgot what he intended to say about the crafting of their recent drink. Instead he noted almost like a neutral observer the acceleration of his heart rate and became aware with some mortification that his lips were still parted, though nothing came out of his mouth. Matt's eyes lingered on his face, wandered to his lips. Holmes saw his pupils widening and felt another rush of heat at this open display of desire.

He was still staring, when he felt the tumbler being gently taken out of his grasp and he heard the soft thump with which it was placed back on the desk. He felt strangely immobilised when Matt's hands came up to cradle his face, as he closed the distance between their bodies and pressed Holmes with his back into the edge of the desk. When Matt leant in and kissed him, his eyes closed on their own volition and he was finally able to overcome his stupor enough to give into the kiss. He could taste the expensive whiskey on the other man's lips and tongue as his mouth was explored.

Nimble fingers untied his royal blue ascot and opened the stiff collar of his shirt to gain access to his neck. His breathing had become ragged by the time Matt's lips left his and he moaned as teeth scraped over the side of his throat and bit into his freshly revealed shoulder, while those hands were still busy undoing the buttons of his shirt. In silent amazement, he noted that his silk vest was already undone (when had that happened?) and felt those fingers moving further and unlatching the front of his trousers.

Holmes was precariously bent backwards, Matt holding him in place with a hand on his neck, thumb under his jaw and lower arm pushing into his chest. His shirt had been fully unbuttoned and pushed down his shoulders, restraining him. All Holmes could do was to brace himself on the desk and try to keep his balance. He gave a surprised yelp when Matt's hand slipped into his pants and took hold of his fast stiffening cock. His mind was barking sniding remarks at him for not expecting this despite the obvious course of action but was effectively silenced and stunned, when Matt's lips were back on his while his hand had firmly gripped his cock and moved up and down in a fluid motion.

As Holmes tried to free his arms, Matt intentionally leaned forward while kissing him to keep Holmes nicely unbalanced and accessable. One clever hand shoved Holmes pants out of the way and then reached for the olive oil they kept in a small bottle on the desk.

Holmes let out a disappointed sound as those delightful lips left and the ministrations of Matt's hand stopped. Matt leaned back, but before Homes could react, Matt had placed his hand on his chest, keeping him in place. Holmes attention was drawn to Matt's the other hand as he dribbled oil on his flushed cock. Satisfied with the amount of oil, he put the bottle away and started smearing the oil all over the cock. Matt smirked as he wrapped his hand around the straining member and resumed stroking it. Holmes' eyes widened in response.

"Why?" He managed to rasp.

"You need it.", Matt whispered against his lips. "All aloof and withdrawn. Such control. Such a temptation to unravel you, to make you come undone. Oh, how I would love to bend you over the desk and take you." 

Mycroft took a sharp intake of breath. Never had anyone dared to talk to him like this. It left him speechless and aroused him at high speed. He felt heat coil up in his groin, the pressure becoming unbearable. He was so close, now.

"Such a pretty thing you are. Blushing and sweating and writhing and moaning. I wish I could keep you and play with you whenever I want."

The effect of those words was immediate. Mycroft bit his lower lip to stifle a wail and threw his head back as he came all over Matt's still busy hand and his own chest and belly.

...

He came back to himself wide eyed and with a gasp. He was sitting in the Diogenes' Club, still staring at the bar where Matt was watching him with a mischievious smile on his face. Mycroft noted with dismay a rapidly cooling patch in his trousers and heat flared up his already flushed face at the evidence that he just came to what must have been the most vivid wet daydream he ever had. He was glad about the newspaper still covering his lap.

Before he could come up with a strategy to make a dignified exit, Matt came over and offered him a glass of whisky.

Holmes gave him a puzzled look, but Matt just shrugged and winked at him.

"You need it."


End file.
